


I dare you to try

by rinthegreat



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Asphyxiation, Breathplay, M/M, Voltron NSFW Week 2017, dubiously consensual breathplay, edgekink, semi-suicidal thoughts, this is another dark one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-21 23:40:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11955141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinthegreat/pseuds/rinthegreat
Summary: They both stand there awkwardly for a second until Keith finally speaks up. “Lance. I’m really sorry about earlier.”The concussion may be gone, but the memories are not. So all Lance can do is stare slack-jawed at Keith. He’s completely speechless, struggling to find something to say for the first time in his life.Because how is he supposed to tell Keith that he liked it?NSFW Week 2017 Day 4: Bad Ideas





	I dare you to try

**Author's Note:**

> betaed again by [thislittlekumquat](http://thislittlekumquat.tumblr.com/)
> 
> This one is pretty dark. I would argue that it's darker than the other ones I've posted this week in some ways. If you see a trigger that I missed in the tags, please let me know. I don't want anyone triggered on accident. Thank you.

Space turns out to be a lot darker than Lance had originally thought it would be. When he was a child, he’d looked up at the night sky and declared, “Someday I’ll connect all the constellations in person.” In high school, he learned that the lights he found so beautiful when he was younger were much farther away than he’d once thought. When he made it to the Galaxy Garrison, he reassessed his goal to instead be: “Touch every planet in our solar system.”

And yet, despite all that, he’s still constantly surprised by just how _dark_ space really is.

Even with Altean technology, it takes quite a bit of time to get anywhere sans wormhole. Which means when they aren’t actively fighting the Galra, they tend to just…drift.

At first it was nice, in a way. Lance had grown up with a large family, had lived with roommates in the Garrison. True silence wasn’t something he was familiar with when they left Earth on Blue. It was calming, relaxing. Lance had time to himself, time with his own thoughts.

But his thoughts are loud, and it gets exhausting.

He thrives in the chaos. The louder it is, the more he _shines_. Nothing makes Lance feel more like himself than when all the paladins plus Allura and Coran are gathered around the dinner table, shooting the shit.

Sometimes he talks louder, just so he can hear something over the constant thrum of his mind.

Space is driving him mad.

Lance has always been his own harshest critic, the hardest sell. Self-confidence has never been his strong point, so he’d learned at a young age to fake it until he made it. (He’s still waiting on the making it part.) He constantly compares where he is in life with those around him, and here on Voltron, he’s incredibly lacking.

But more than that is the suffocating boredom. The castle is only so large, and there are only so many things he can do, leading him down the same paths with the same tasks over and over and over again. The silence buzzes in his ear, settling beneath his skin like an unscratchable itch, and if left alone too long, it grows louder.

It starts to develop inside Lance’s body, just above his gut. Growing until it speaks with its own voice.

_Leave_.

The silence only knows one real word, one real thought: to get out of here. To do something, _anything_. Whatever makes him feel alive again.

Because, frankly, he can’t feel his limbs anymore unless they’re mid-battle.

He starts small.

First he tries hanging around the rest of Team Voltron, bothering them when he would normally have left them alone. It’s sick, how he gets a kick out of every annoyed glance, feels a pluck of awareness buzz across his skin every time he gets banished from an area by irate words or fouled tempers.

But like a frog in warm water, he gets used to it. Has to turn up the heat.

So he goes into areas he shouldn’t be in. Pokes at things he shouldn’t poke at. Messes with things he shouldn’t mess with. It’s 50% the thrill of being caught and 50% wondering if this time he’ll get seriously hurt.

He gets banished from the training room – again – and decides, fuck it. The silence of the ship around him is pulsing louder and louder. Its voice chants the single word in his head until Lance gives up and heads to the shuttle bay. He could take Blue, but he wants to see what will happen. Wants to feel the thrill of watching the castle leave him behind.

Wants to wonder if anyone will come back for him.

He gets as far as launching the shuttle out of the ship before the red lion stops him. He can feel Keith’s wrath through Red. Maybe he should break it to the team that he can connect with all the lions without Blue.

Or maybe he should try to outrun Keith.

Lance barely manages to _think_ of threading the needle between Red’s legs before he’s kicked back into the shuttle bay. The smaller ship smacks into the side of the castle, flipping over before skidding down the launch strip. Lance had been smart enough to put the belt on, but sparks flash just on the other side of the window, right where his face is pressed against the glass.

The shuttle slides to a stop, bouncing off the back of the bay. Lance’s head jerks, slamming into the side of his headrest so hard he sees stars.

He moves once his ears stop ringing, undoing the belt and falling down onto the dash. A grunt escapes as his stomach slams down on it, pushing the air from his gut.

He might’ve blacked out for a second, might’ve been longer. He’s not sure. His vision goes out and flickers back in, revealing just the floor below him. Lance ends up having to crawl through the shuttle and crouch on the back of the chair to reach the door and push himself out.

The shuttle is smoking when he gets the door open, a large scrape showing Lance’s path from space to where he is now. He looks back at the wall and sees a slight black mark but no dent. Altean technology is insane.

“Holy shit, Lance!”

The team is running towards him, all but Keith – who’s walking slowly in the background – as Lance pulls himself out of the shuttle. His legs are jelly, and he collapses almost immediately in a heap on the ground, sparks swimming across his vision.

Hunk is there in an instant. “Lance, buddy, are you ok?” He leans down, looping Lance’s arm around his neck and hoisting him upright. He could’ve used a second helper, but Shiro’s too busy yelling at Keith.

“What the _hell_ did you think you were doing, kicking Lance back into the ship like that?! You could’ve killed him!”

Lance doesn’t think he’s ever heard Shiro yell quite that loud. Or ever. (At Keith.) He wishes he’d stop. Maybe it’s just the headache, but Shiro is _really_ loud.

“I…” Keith trails off, head darting to Lance before he stares at his feet. “I’m sorry, Lance.”

Lance blinks. “Why…?”

“Shit, how hard did you hit your head?” Pidge asks, squinting over her glasses at him.

“Hunk, get him to the med bay,” Shiro instructs, back still to them all. Hunk doesn’t wait for Lance to approve of that plan, instead already dragging him away.

Minor concussion and bruising is the diagnosis, solved by about an hour – whatever the Altean equivalent is, Lance has stopped caring – in the med pod. He stumbles out, a little fuzzy around the edges and nearly bounces off Keith.

“Oh.”

“Oh.”

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

They both stand there for a second until Keith finally speaks up. “Lance. I’m really sorry about earlier.”

The concussion may be gone, but the memories are not. So all Lance can do is stare slack-jawed at Keith. He’s completely speechless, floundering to find something to say for the first time in his life.

Because how is he supposed to tell Keith that he _liked_ it?

He’d think something’s wrong with him. And, yeah, this isn’t normal. But Lance doesn’t care. Nothing about being out here is normal. And if getting kicked into the shuttle bay makes him happier than wandering the castles and coming up with shit strategies no one likes? Then, fuck, he’ll take it.

So he nods. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it, Keith. You were mad. I get it.”

Keith frowns. “I mean…yeah. But how did you know that?”

Lance shrugs. “Guessed.” He stretches his arms over his head. “Well I’m gonna get some shut eye now. Med pods make me tired. See ya.” He escapes before Keith can notice:

He’s hard.

Fuck. If he’d ever known this is what he’d become, that he’d get hard over the mere thought of Keith slamming him back against the wall, holding a knife to his throat as he purrs into Lance’s ear about how much he _hates_ him, giving up on the knife and going for Lance with his bare hands, wrapping them around his neck and _squeezing_ …

Well, he’d probably have thought he’d gone insane.

Maybe he is. Maybe space really _is_ driving him mad. Maybe there are certain disorders you can only develop when you’ve been stuck in a vacuum for who-knows-how-long with only your own thoughts and a never ending war you’re losing. Or maybe this was always festering inside him, and only the ultimate cabin fever was able to bring it out.

Either way, he’s got a hand down his pants before the door even slides shut behind him. He leans his head back against the door, savoring the cool metal on his scalp as he strokes himself the way he usually does.

But, shit, it’s just not enough.

He raises his head again before slamming it back, but whatever survival instinct is left floating beneath his skin stops him from hitting it as hard as he needs. He pinches his thigh, digging his nails into himself through his pants, but it’s not sharp enough.

It’s too predictable.

He can squeeze his hand around his dick as much as he wants, but it’s not providing the relief he needs. And the more he tries, the more he has to try, the less interested he becomes. Until, finally, he’s stuck moving his hand against his wilted dick with no relief.

Lance could laugh at how ridiculous the situation is: him standing back against his door, having just emerged from the med pod, pants open in front with his hand inside, unable to get himself off despite being hard five seconds ago.

He could also cry.

Instead he groans and zips himself back up before taking the four steps forward to his bed and falling face first. He doesn’t even wash his hands.

Smothering himself sounds like a half-decent idea, but he’s sure he’d run into the same ‘too predictable’ issue. So instead he breathes against his pillow and prays to every deity out there that he’ll have a dream that causes him to wake up with a wet spot in the bed.

He doesn’t.

Lance is ninety percent sure the pressure is going to kill him. And not in the pleasant way like the way he feels when he cuts it just a little closer these days, feeling laser shots fly over him so close they singe his hair. More in a pent up way, where he’s wound so tight he’s going to snap and _beg_ Keith to abuse him until he finds his release.

Also, he can’t sleep.

Instead, he wanders the castle, hoping someone will burst out of the walls. But the castle is boring now, no longer scary in its silence. Nothing really _scares_ Lance anymore, not in the way things did when he’d thought the place was haunted and trying to kill him.

He doesn’t plan it, doesn’t think about where he’s going until he gets there. Until he stops in front of the door and thinks _oh._ Of course he would end up here. In a way this is where it all began.

Lance presses his fingers to the glass, staring at the way the pads fatten when he applies pressure. He hasn’t gone through the door – rarely even walks down this hall – since the crystal incident. As if in a dream, his head turns to the release button, and a hand presses it. His hand.

The door slides open.

His first step over the threshold kicks up dust in his mind, lights a tiny spark of fear as the memories rush back. The second step makes his heart skip a beat, while his stomach performs a tiny backflip. Lance can feel the tingling in his groin, dick twitching in his pants.

The door slides shut.

Lance spins around, heart hammering at the sight of the hallway blocked by the glass door. He stands there, nearly paralyzed with just the sound of numbers counting down in his head. For a second, he considers pounding on the door, begging to be let out. He even takes a step forward.

But then his body presses against the door, and he groans. He’s fully hard now, and the pressure of the glass door against his still-clothed erection is more delicious than his half-assed attempts to jack himself off before. He doesn’t even need to lay a hand on himself, he can already tell. All he needs is to rut against the door.

He closes his eyes, blind to everything around him, and holds his breath. His groin is pressed forward, unmoving until he’s forced to gasp for air. He’s so close. _So close_.

“Lance?”

His eyes fly open, magic gone, and he meets Keith’s confused gaze. Oh. Oh. Oh shit.

“Are you ok?” Keith asks, when Lance continues to stare, speechless.

The thing is, his erection isn’t going away. If anything, it’s getting harder. He’s this close to release, to getting this danger streak out of his system, and after not sleeping for almost a week, he doesn’t care.

“Keith,” Lance chokes out, hoarse. He can feel how large his pupils are, see it in the way Keith’s eyes darken. “Keith.”

“I’m gonna let you out, ok?”

“No!” Lance shouts, slamming his hand against the door when Keith moves to do what he promised. “Don’t.”

Keith pauses, his eyes darting down to Lance’s lips then back up in a way that makes Lance hyper aware of how _hard_ he is. Lance groans. “ _Keith_.”

“What?” Keith asks, breathless. His own eyes are nearly black. “What do you want?”

He wants…he wants…

“Open the airlock.”

Keith blinks. “What? But you’ll get sucked out.”

How does Lance tell him that he doesn’t care? That half of him wants it. That he wants to feel all the oxygen escape his lungs and be trapped, breathless, until Keith decides he’s had enough and brings him back in. That the only way he can get off is if his life is on the line.

“Keith, _please_.” Lance repeats his name, noting the flush appear high on Keith’s cheeks. Sees the way Keith glances all the way down at his very obvious erection.

Keith swallows and hits the button, sliding open the door. Lance wants to cry. He’d been so close. So very, _very_ close.

But then Keith steps in, crowding into his space. His gaze is hot on Lance as his hands rest on Lance’s hips. Here, in this liminal space, Lance can almost pretend Keith doesn’t hate him.

But he doesn’t want to.

“Lance…” Keith breathes, leaning in. He has to stop this before he loses it. Lance steps back. Keith’s expression shudders. “What…?”

Lance knows what he wants this time, prepared to ask. To _beg_ if necessary.

“Wrap your hands around my throat.”

“…What?”

“That’s what I want.”

And, fuck, he needs it now or he’s going to go another night without relief.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I want you to.”

“Lance…I could kill you.”

And isn’t that it? Keith, quick to anger, part-Galra, selfish. Aren’t those all the things that made Lance choose him? So what the fuck does he have to do to make Keith _hurt_ him?

“I dare you to _try_.”

He recognizes the exact moment Keith snaps. Whether it’s the time or the place or the way Lance challenged him, Keith finally caves. He steps forward, back into Lance’s space again, but this time his hands go straight for his throat.

Keith grabs him with such force, Lance is pushed back against the wall. His shoulders hit hard, his head ricocheting off the back, but Keith is in his space again, and before Lance can catch his breath or open his mouth to ask _is that all you got_ , he’s _there_.

Keith’s hand wraps around his neck, cutting off Lance’s voice before it enters his throat. His thumb presses against Lance’s windpipe, and as if a switch had been flipped, Lance can’t breathe. His hips rock up as he tries to rut against Keith, but Keith stays stubbornly far away. In another circumstance, Lance would let out a groan, but he has no air to do so, so instead he gapes openly at Keith.

Keith blinks, and the pressure releases before Lance finishes. He sucks in air while he has the chance, wordlessly begging Keith to keep going. As if he heard, Keith growls. This time, both hands come around Lance’s throat, cutting off his air in earnest. Both thumbs push into Lance’s windpipe so hard, Lance’s vision goes black around the edges. His mouth drops open in a silent moan as his vision tunnels to seeing only Keith’s glare.

Not a single finger touches him below the waist. Hell, he doesn’t even try rutting against Keith again. Instead he just tenses up more and more as his senses shut down. His hearing shuts down completely, limited to just the sound of his own panicked heartbeat. His vision tunnels down to something almost black, light shrinking to a pinpoint on the horizon. And he thinks _ah this is it_. This is how he dies.

That’s all it takes.

Lance blacks out, going boneless in Keith’s grasp as he comes, orgasm pushing him over the edge into oblivion.

\---

When Lance opens his eyes, he sees the open door leading back into the hallway. He sits up with a groan, head pounding. The front of his pants are wet, so he can’t have passed out for long. Lance looks around, but he doesn’t see Keith. And really, that’s for the better.

He stands up, body aching. His throat is sore, cracking with each inhale, and his every muscle feels as if they were pushed to the limit in training. But he feels better. So, _so_ much better.

He needs to get out of here before Keith returns. (If Keith returns.)

Lance stumbles out of the airlock, hitting the button to close it behind him. He looks back, spotting what could be a wet imprint on the ground. Or it might just be his imagination.

Something sounds in the hallway, jerking Lance back to the present. He turns away from the room and heads in the opposite direction of the noise, ready to finally get a good night’s rest.

He doesn’t look back.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://rinthegreat.tumblr.com/)   
>  [writing tag](https://rinthegreat.tumblr.com/tagged/cat-writes-fanfiction)


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